


Kick Start

by tuneinmymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuneinmymind/pseuds/tuneinmymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Harry Styles is a senior. He’s captain of the football team, single, and needs no one. That is, until the new kid comes. Zayn Malik, junior, and what might just be the key to creating the best football team the school has ever had. Harry’s never been one to wear someone else’s letterman, but there might be an M sitting over his heart once the season ends. Zarry football!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oi! Styles! You ready for the season?”

“Hey there, Curly! Missed you last weekend man!”

“Captain Styles is on the vicinity, everyone pay your respects and make way.”

Harry made his way through the halls, responding to the various shouts from friends and winking at a couple of the girls he passed as they batted their eyelashes and blushed when he passed, whispering to their friends.

He arrived at the same beat up locker he had used for the past three years, sighing as he unlocked the familiar lock.

He had yet to see any of his best mates, but figured they were all doing their various before class routine and that he’d see them later.

“Haz, you’re here earlier than usual,” a familiar voice sounded to his right and he looked up to see a dirty blonde girl lean against the locker next to his.

“Hullo, Cazza. I have to put up the soccer tryouts sign up sheet and announce the times so I had to get up early,” he replied with a smile.

If possible, Caroline Flack had gotten prettier over the summer, her hair lighter and waist smaller, eyes brighter and clothing more mature.

Too bad it didn’t affect him at all.

See, they had dated freshman and sophomore year of high school, but then, Louis and Harry had become best friends, and Louis made Harry realize that he was more interested in males than he was females.

So, after a very interesting and slightly comical break up, Harry became the gay best friend Caroline had always wanted, Louis and Harry hooked up for a while, and then, Louis found love with Liam, and Harry decided to focus on football rather than relationships.

Of course, the majority of the school thought Harry and Caroline, also known as Hazza and Cazza, were still dating (although they had constantly denied this and Caroline had hooked up with other guys).

Not that this stopped any of the girls from trying to get Harry to like them.

The thing was, he had a lot going for him.

He had been captain of the footie team since his sophomore year, his grades were stellar, and yeah, he was easy on the eyes, but he didn’t really care for girls and he really wasn’t looking for a relationship.

They took too much time, they took too much effort, and honestly, he was leaving in a year, so why would he start something that would just have to end when he left the next summer?

He was realistic.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy relationships because really, he did. It was just that he hated when there was a time stamp on a relationship and he didn’t see the point in starting something that he knew he would end.

He had a plan (getting recruited for a D1 soccer team, going to university, and then, playing the big leagues) and he didn’t want a relationship to get in the way of that.

High school relationships rarely lasted into college, and he didn’t want to get attached to someone with the knowledge that they would be saying goodbye in the near future.

It simply wasn’t worth it.

And anyway, he had his best mates and he had Cazza, he didn’t _need_ anyone else.

If he needed anything physical, well, he had hook up buddies that did the trick.

Basically, he had everything he needed plus more and this year his focus needed to be solely on football.

“We going to State this year, Captain?” Caroline asked, slipping her hand in the curve of Harry’s arm, earning many glares from other girls, as they began to walk down the hall toward the Bulletin Board.

The Bulletin Board held everything and anything one needed to know about school activities. It was covered in fliers about this club and that tutor session, also including tryout sign up sheets for plays, and more importantly, at least to Harry, athletic teams. People also used it to ask others out on dates or to school dances, and especially around Valentines Day, the corkboard was covered in anonymous heart-shaped notes.

“We’re going to State this year if I have to hurt myself trying,” Harry replied, already calculating different plays and positions in his head as they approached their destination.

Caroline realized quickly that she had lost her curly-haired best friend to the world of football (what else did Harry ever think about anyway?) and she unlocked their arms with a friendly smile.

“Just be careful, Haz,” she warned him, worried about the lengths Harry would go to get something he wanted. He was a stubborn twat sometimes, and rarely took no for an answer, so naturally, her maternal instinct emerged with him.

He didn’t reply as he stuck the sign up sheet to the corkboard and so she left him with a squeeze of the hand and a fond smile.

~O~

“What’s the line up looking like?” Louis asked, sliding into the seat next to Harry, who was sitting on the bleachers about an hour after school let out, looking at the sign up sheet.

Tryouts were starting the next week, and Harry had just taken down the sign up sheet that day (Friday), and was happy to see that it had about seventy different names written down.

He had expected thirty, maybe forty, but people had flipped the page over after fifty, starting a continuation of the list on the back of the page.

“There are a lot of guys coming out this year, that is, if all of these people show up,” Harry responded, figuring that about ten of them at least wouldn’t show, leaving sixty guys to pick from.

Not bad.

He needed at least seventeen players but hoped for twenty and with fifteen guys from the previous year still here, he figured that he would pick up three or four new players.

See, the year before there were only four seniors who graduated, leaving mainly juniors and seniors on the team this year.

It was the perfect year to create the best team, and Harry wanted more than anything to do so.

Their team was always good, but had never gone all the way, always making regionals, and then, not quite being good enough to make State.

It bothered him to no end because he knew the potential they had, knew they _could_ make it all the way.

He just needed _something,_ or rather, _someone_ who would be able to help them, who had that extra little _thing_.

Out of sixty guys he was bound to find a star, right?

Louis snatched the sign up sheet from his larger hand and scanned it, seemingly satisfied with the names written down.

Louis watched as Harry laced up his running shoes and stood, standing tall and erect, towering over the bench.

“You gonna do your laps?” the smaller lad questioned rhetorically, knowing full well that Harry would be at the field for another three or four hours, running, conditioning, and practicing his ball skills.

Harry nodded anyway, untangling the wires of his headphones and jumping up and down a little to warm up against the chill of the wind.

He had this routine that he’d done every day since sophomore year, even with practice.

On off days, he ran three miles, did sprints, conditioned, doing core, arm, and leg exercises, and then, finally, he worked on his ball skills, ranging from practicing penalty kicks to doing simple ball exercises.

On days when he had practice, he ran an extra mile or two, did his conditioning, and practiced his ball skills, often staying at least two hours after their two hour practice.

Some days, a couple of his teammates would join him, but he was often the only one left on the field.

He almost preferred it that way, just him and the ball and the field.

It was peaceful, and although football was a team sport, he enjoyed having his alone time, honing his footwork and speed and bringing his body to top physical condition.

There was a reason he was the best on his team and the best in the county, and perhaps even one of the best in the state.

He just loved football and played and practiced _all_ the time, leaving Sunday as his day off, and only because Sunday was the day where he caught up with all of the games he recorded during the week.

He lived and breathed football, needing it like he needed air, and without it, he didn’t know what he would even do with himself.

“Get to it, Captain Hazza,” Louis commanded with a slap to Harry’s back. The feather-haired lad turned to leave, but stopped for a moment, losing his jocular smile. “Oh, and once you’re finished doing whatever the fuck you do out here to be the best footie player alive, come over to mine. Parents are gone and Liam wanted to have some _fun_.”

Harry’s eyes widened at Louis’ dirty smile and wink, not quite sure if he should believe what Louis was insinuating because it had kind of been one of his and Louis’ fantasies, having a threesome, ever since Louis and Liam had gotten together.

For a while, Liam had been completely opposed, and while they had all kissed or made out at some point, it hadn’t escalated any further.

He coughed, shaking out his curls, and roughly asked, “Fun?”

Louis laughed loudly, walking away and calling over his shoulder, “Yes, Hazza. _Fun_. And don’t bother showering, you’ll just be getting sweaty again anyway.”

~O~ 


	2. Chapter 2

“ _If you just practice a little more and do a couple hours extra work every day, you’ll be the best one.”_

A couple extra hours, a couple extra steps, a little more practice, Zayn though, pushing himself to run a little faster. His steps clunked against the track lightly, a pitter patter rhythm as his lungs burned and muscles screamed at him to slow down.

He couldn’t, though, slow down that is, because he still had another three laps.

Zayn turned his music up louder, praying that the heavy bass would give him the motivation he needed to finish off the mile.

Another lap went by, and he could feel his throat tightening, lungs being filled with the barest amounts of oxygen needed as he wheezed in breath after breath.

A couple extra hours, a couple extra steps, a little more practice, he thought again, his mothers words ringing through his mind, then, he’ll be the best.

He knew he would have to prove himself even more than he had to at his old school because this was a new team, he was a new player, and this was one of the best football teams in the state.

It only made him feel the need to run more, train harder, and put even more hours into training.

Zayn could practically feel the weight of that pressure weighing down on his shoulders, making his steps heavier and the last lap of the mile seem even more difficult, but he wouldn’t succumb because he wanted to do this, he _needed_ to do this.

And the first step would be making the team.

He had gotten through his first week of school relatively easily, making sure to sign up for football tryouts on the first day after he heard the announcement on the loud speaker during first period.

His name was the twenty-first one and he had signed up during lunch time, making him wonder just how many people were trying out and just how hard it would be to make the team.

He knew the school was much larger than his old one, but he wasn’t sure how big, yet.

Regardless, he came an hour early to tryouts, giving himself proper time to run two miles before stretching and doing a couple ball control exercises.

He noticed a curly-haired lad running around the track when he started stretching and vaguely wondered why the bloke looked so familiar, but let the thought go when he started to do little ball touching exercises.

Feeling the familiar weight of the ball under his feet, he started off simply and eventually made the exercises more complex.

He was working on a particularly hard exercise and he looked up to see if he could do it without watching, which ended up being a mistake because the moment he looked up he was flashed with a particularly pale, sculpted physique and he immediately lost control, the ball spinning wildly from between his legs as he fell face first onto the turf.

“Whoa, mate, you okay?” A voice called out, and Zayn flushed deep red as he stood, brushing little pieces of tire off of his body. The voice belonged to the person who distracted Zayn, and even up close he was unable to take his eyes off of the bare, pale skin of the shirtless lad walking closer every second.

He was a little shocked and very much speechless in that moment because soon enough the lad was right in front of him and he realized it was the curly-haired lad who had been running.

And yes, it was fairly obvious that he had been running, if his the flush on his face was any indicator, or the little droplets of sweat running down his sculpted abs…

“Yeah,” Zayn replied roughly, tugging at the waist band of his shorts and hoping he didn’t make this situation awkward (after all, football shorts hid very little). “Lost my footing.”

The curly-haired lad smirked as if he knew Zayn was lying, but didn’t call him out on it, instead asking, “I’m Harry. Are you trying out for the footie team?”

The curly-haired lad, or Harry, held out his hand, and Zayn reciprocated, his own hand being enveloped in Harry’s much larger one.

For being so sweaty, Harry’s hand was like ice, and shocked Zayn slightly, leaving tingles from his palm to the very tips of his fingers, as if a feather had been run along his skin.

“Zayn, and yuh, I am,” he replied, eyeing the taller lad and taking note of the football shorts, “Are you?”

Harry just laughed, as if Zayn was unaware or oblivious of something that should be rather obvious, but he didn’t respond because another lad had thrown himself onto his back and he stumbled forward a bit on his long, lanky legs before finally catching his balance, big hands moving to grab this new lad’s thighs, his hands covering them much like they covered Zayn’s hands.

Zayn watched as Harry began to banter with this lad, eventually tossing him off of his back. He picked up that the lad’s name was Louis and that was about all. Harry and Louis seemed close though, interestingly close.

Around them, other boys began to appear and when Zayn checked his watch there were only five more minutes until tryouts began.

He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally preparing himself for what was to come, and when he opened them again, it was to meet the gaze of Harry, who quickly looked away and focused back on what Louis was saying.

Exactly at three o’clock on the dot, Zayn looked around to see that there had to be at least sixty guys there, if not more, and he wondered how he would ever make the team with this many players.

“All right lads, let’s start with a mile warm up,” Louis called out, nodding to Harry after the curly-haired lad whispered something quietly. Louis raised his eyebrows as groans arose from the large group of guys. “Something wrong?”

A few blokes opened their mouths as if to speak, but decided against it, and shook their head as an indication of no.

“Good because this will be your warm up for the beginning of the season until we’re in good enough shape to warm up with two miles,” Louis smiled brightly, looking around as if the unhappy faces gave him extra joy, which it really seemed to do, as he bounced on his toes and started off the procession, laughing and chipper throughout the entire warm-up.

~O~

Zayn gulped down water, not caring that he was spilling all over the front of his shirt and that it was dripping down his face. He finished drinking and lifted the bottle up, turning it over the top of his head and shaking like a dog as the water cascaded through his hair.

He was hot and sweaty and felt as if he had been bulled over by a train, but the burn in his muscles ached in a wonderful way and he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of satisfaction.

Tryouts had just ended, and everyone was drinking water or sprawled out on the turf, legs dead and tired from the workout.

See, he expected it to be difficult, but this tryout was harder than any other practice he had ever experienced. Some lads just stopped trying during a couple of the exercises, falling to a walk before simply picking up their stuff, leaving behind the field and the tryouts without looking back.

Louis, who seemed to be in charge, drilled them continuously and without sympathy, yelling when the pace slowed down or if form looked bad.

While some hated it, Zayn absolutely loved it because this was just what he needed, to be pushed and challenged.

He pulled his cleats off, wincing at the stench, and slid back into his running shoes, planning on running a couple extra miles before stretching and showering.

He needed to be the best and this was what it would take.

“See you tomorrow everyone,” Louis called out, still smiling even after the intense practice. Zayn liked that the older lad had done all of the exercises with them instead of just watching them suffer on the side. It showed good leadership.

“Be prepared for an even harder day tomorrow, Captain Hazza will take over tomorrow and I can guarantee he’ll work you to the bone. I was just going easy,” Louis laughed, clapping Harry on the back, who was bent over, retying his cleats.

Wait?

Captain Hazza?

Was that Harry?

Zayn was confused, having thought that Louis was captain, but then, he recalled why Harry was so familiar and why he thought he had remembered him from somewhere.

Harry Styles, the captain of the football team and one of the best players in the state.

Zayn remembered reading about him in the local newspaper back home when the team failed to make state just barely, losing in a PK’s after overtime.

Harry was said to be one of the best goalies and captains high school football had ever seen.

What Zayn really didn’t understand, though, was how the curly-haired lad was able to do all of the exercises today. Harry had been obviously the best one on the field, his ball control precise and unyielding, his foot doing exactly what he wanted it to do.

He met the curly-haired lad’s emerald gaze with a questioning look.

“You’re the infamous Captain Harry Styles?”

~O~


	3. Chapter 3

Harry strolled onto the field, long legs carrying him in long strides across the track and onto the fake grass, where his team was waiting.

He had posted the list two weeks ago, and since then the team has been training non-stop, preparing for their first game, which was in just a week and a half.

The new boys were good, some of them better than the older players, and Harry was extremely excited to see what this season held for the team.

He just had this feeling…like this was the year, this was _his_ year, and maybe it was, maybe he had finally earned it, but he really hoped to bring home a state championship win in his final year.

He also felt much lighter, but maybe that was because he had been spending the past couple of weekends with Louis and Liam, hanging out and doing other… _stuff_.

But even with his weekends being spent mainly with Liam and Louis and occasionally Niall, he had still been able to keep and maintain his focus, which was good, very good.

Especially with that new bloke, Zayn Malik.

Harry was surprised at the kids skill, especially when he noticed that the dark-haired lad often stayed after with him, training and running extra miles, but once he had seen what Zayn could do with the ball, well, there was no reason he wouldn’t make the team.

Harry could tell that he would absolutely need Zayn this year.

Niall had also taken to Zayn, pulling the younger lad into their social group, and while Harry had yet to really hang out with him outside of soccer, he figured that if Niall like the bloke he wouldn’t have any problem.

“All right, chaps. Let’s run some laps in five,” Harry announced, dropping the ball full of soccer balls to the ground while clapping his hands and sitting down to slip on his cleats.

They slid on nicely, form fitted to his feet as if they were a glove or some sort of special latex that clung to his feet as if they were a part of his body.

He never felt quite as at home as he did with his cleats on.

Soon enough they were off, making their way around the field for the first twenty minutes of practice.

A lot of the guys had complained at first when Harry started practice this way the first week after try-outs, but after Harry kind of kindly pointed out that there were many lads who would gladly take their places, well, they shut up and ran.

It was paying off, too, because Harry could tell, even two weeks in, that the team was in much better shape than they ever had been, all thanks to the running at the beginning and end of practice, as well as sprints in the middle.

After running practice was off in full swing, with Harry in the goal and the other boys taking shots.

With Harry being one of the best goalies in the state, if not at least the West Coast, none of the boys had really come close to making a shot, other than Louis, of course, but Louis was Harry’s best friend and knew all of his weaknesses, including where to shoot the ball (especially because they had been playing and training together since they met at the age of four).

Harry was getting a little frustrated because yes, he was a good goalie, but the other goalies were just as good and he need his forwards and midfielders to be able to make a shot on him if they had any chance at making a goal during one of the games.

Zayn Malik was up next, and Harry had an idea of where the kid was going to shoot, if his past shots were any indicator, he would go for the left side.

However, to his surprise, Zayn used his left leg instead of his right like he had previously, and Harry knew from the second he jumped- to the left- that the ball was, in fact, going to drop right above his reaching point.

“Nice one, Malik,” Harry grinned and yelled out, clapping his hands together with pride at his younger, new teammate. “See that guys. _That’s_ what I need you guys to be doing all the time.”

Practice continued, with only two more shots being made on that exercise, and by the time practice was over, everyone was sweating and exhausted.

Harry, however, slid his cleats off and pulled his ipod and running shoes out, getting ready for the second half of his workout.

~O~

“It’s so crazy, that we’re already a week or so away from the first game of our last season,” Louis uttered, his face looking absolutely shocked and appalled.

Harry nodded in agreement, nuzzling into Liam’s side a little and sighing because really, it was crazy how fast time went.

He felt as if they had just started high school, had just started middle school, hell, had just started goddamn kindergarten.

It was hard to imagine that in less than a year everything would be changing.

“I can’t believe it,” Harry murmured lowly, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Liam and Louis right next to him.

It wasn’t long, though, before his mind drifted to football and he started making plays in his head, imagining how their first game would go.

He already had most of them written up and taught to the lads, but he needed just one more, the ultimate goal maker play.

“…Haz?” Louis was asking, and oops, he may have gotten a little carried away.

“What was that?” Harry asked, leaning into Louis’ touch as the other boy began stroking his hair.

He almost whined high in his throat, but the noise came out as more of a purr, and Louis and Liam laughed at him, both making jokes about how he sounded like a cat.

When they quieted down, Louis tried again, looking seriously down at the pliant, lanky boy in his arms.

“What do you think will happen next year?” Louis questioned, and it wasn’t like Louis to question Harry about this, not in all of their years of friendship had he once asked, and Harry was surprised because he thought Louis knew of his plan.

But maybe, Louis thought he would change his mind or something, even though Harry knew he would never even dream about changing his mind.

He wasn’t about to give up, not now, not when he was so close to getting what he always had wanted.

“Either I try for a recruit or I play D1 at either Brown or Stanford, depending which one gives me the better offer,” Harry replied, giving Louis the same answer he had since they had met. “Preferably the recruit, though. I’d like to go right into the MLS if I can.”

And that was his plan, it always had been, since he watched his first Major League Soccer game, he had just planned on being on that field, under the lights, with fans cheering as he helped lead his team to victory.

Louis and Liam both fell silent, watching him with calculating gazes and sharing a look over the top of Harry’s head.

He had his eyes shut, though, so he missed the look of worry in his friend’s eyes.

“So, Zayn Malik seems to be an excellent addition to the team. He’s starting with me, right?” Louis asked, breaking the silence.

Louis was a forward, one of the fastest and best forwards in their high school league, and he was excited to have Zayn out there with him, as the new kid was extremely good, if not better than Louis himself.

“Yes, Malik is starting with you,” Harry replied, green eyes opening and Louis could see in his gaze that he was thinking about soccer again, obviously planning out the team line up or something (when was Harry not thinking about soccer?).

Liam coughed, hiding a smile behind his hand, and Louis glanced up innocently when Harry noticed the exchange.

“What?” Harry demanded, looking between his two best friends questioningly and not understanding what was so funny.

“Nothing, nothing,” Louis waved Harry’s question off with his hand. “Just curious as to whether or not you’ve noticed Zayn at all.”

Harry was confused, something that happened often in Louis’ presence, and he grew a little frustrated when Louis smirked widely because really, what in the world could be so funny about Zayn’s amazing soccer talent?

“Well, his cuts are excellent, he’s got a ton of speed that we definitely need to utilize, maybe with Niall cutting him in from the side,” Harry schemed, voicing his plans for Zayn. “And you two will definitely work well together, you’ve got chemistry that is unusual for not knowing each other very well…”

Harry trailed off when he realized that Louis and Liam were laughing at him again.

“Jesus, what is with you?” Harry cried out.

Louis continued to giggle, and for once it was Liam who responded.

“How is your chemistry with Zayn? He seems to get along quite well with you, as well,” Liam winked at him, and what in the world was happening, maybe spending so much time with Liam and Louis was a bad idea, especially with Louis’ antics rubbing off on Liam ever since they started dating.

“What importance does our chemistry have? We’re at opposite sides of the field, it really wouldn’t matter if we never even talked as long as I knew his skill and what he was capable of,” Harry muttered, and really, Liam should know this because his chemistry with Louis on the soccer field had just about the same importance as Harry’s with Zayn.

Liam was a defender, see, and with Louis as a forward they rarely had to interact on the field.

Liam and Louis dropped the subject, though, understanding that he didn’t really want to talk about the subject of Zayn Malik’s chemistry with his teammates anymore, and only when he was in bed, just about to fall asleep, did Harry realize that maybe Louis and Liam were talking about a different kind of chemistry.

~O~


	4. Chapter 4

Zayn’s legs felt like they were on fire and his lungs were burning with a similar intensity as he pushed himself to keep up with his older, curly-haired teammate.

He figured he would be able to keep up with Harry by now, or at least he _should_ be able to keep up with Harry by now, what with all of his early morning runs on top of practice, but he found out that he was still painfully out of shape in comparison.

This was the third day he had stayed after practice to train with Harry, and while he was able to stay closer to Harry ever-drifting footsteps than he had on the first day, he could tell he was still a ways off from being able to keep up with his captain.

He didn’t get it at all.

Harry was the _goalie_ and he was a _forward_ , why did the older lad feel the need to be in such good shape?

He tried asking Niall the day before in English, but the blonde had just laughed loudly and given him a look as if saying, ‘are you clueless?’

He was glad, though, that he didn’t seem to be much of an imposition to Harry’s extra work out, at least, the curly-haired goalie hadn’t protested at all when Zayn asked, instead just nodding with a short smile.

It seemed that it was all Zayn would ever get from Harry because he hadn’t seen the lad in a state other than serious, excluding when Harry was with Louis, Liam, and Niall.

With them, it was as if Harry was a completely different person, laughing and joking around, and the only other time he had seen Harry so relaxed was when the curly-haired lad had been smiling softly at that girl, Cazza or Caroline or something.

And no, Zayn wasn’t _jealous_ persay, not of this Caroline girl or of Harry’s- and kind of Zayn’s- friends, but he just wondered why he couldn’t get any reaction out of Harry other than a nod or a ‘Good job, Malik.’

He wouldn’t deny that Harry was attractive because anyone with eyes could tell that the curly-haired lad was fit as fuck, but it was also more than that…like the way his green orbs would brighten whenever they were on the field and how he seemed to just be in his element whenever he had a ball between his feet or hands.

Maybe it was because he saw his own focus in Harry’s gaze, the want and need and passion, but whatever it was had Zayn practically jumping at any chance to spend time with the older bloke, even if it meant dying while running lap after lap around the track.

“You wanna shoot on me? I need some blocking practice on my left side, it’s my weaker one,” Harry asked, strolling over to Zayn, who stood heaving after finishing his final lap.

Zayn nodded, still bent over his hands on his knees, and this, at least, didn’t come to a surprise because it was something they had done the previous two days, especially as it helped Zayn with his shooting and Harry with his blocking.

As it was, Zayn was still one of the only ones other than Louis who could score on the experienced goalie, and while that was something to be proud of, training with Harry had shown the curly-haired lad his shooting techniques, so Harry was now able to block more of his shots.

He managed to make about half of the shots still and once all fifteen balls were either behind the net or inside it, him and Harry went to gather them so that Zayn could have another round.

“I think we have a good shot at winning the game next week with you and Louis up front,” Harry’s low rumble broke out, and Zayn turned around to find the lanky lad right next to him, a ball tucked under either arm and his large hands gripping one on either side.

He was a little surprised- okay _a lot_ \- that Harry was talking to him, and yeah, it was about soccer, but like, any conversation counts for something, especially if Harry initiates it, and wow, he really is starting to think like a prepubescent girl.

“Yeah, I guess,” Zayn murmured back, still in shock and also not quite believing that he had what it took to help them win the game.

Louis, sure, Louis could definitely do it, but him?

He wasn’t convinced and was definitely planning on training as hard as he could for the next couple days in order to prepare for the game next Wednesday.

“What? You don’t think?” Harry questioned, and Zayn looked up to find Harry’s emerald gaze staring intensely at him, and he lost all train of thought for a moment before realizing the goalie was still waiting for a response.

“Erm-“ Zayn began, breaking eye contact so that he could think a little clearer. “I dunno, I mean Louis, course, Louis’ amazing, but, I mean, well, we’ll see, right?”

They both stopped, having made it to their stuff, and Zayn had thought they were going to go for another round, but instead, Harry was slipping balls back into the ball bag and then toeing off his cleats.

They were silent as they packed up their stuff, but then, as they headed off the field, Harry spoke again.

“Louis’ my best friend and all, and we both know he’s an excellent player, but…” Harry laughed a little, although Zayn couldn’t find any humor in the situation. “…you’re something else on that field, Malik.”

The curly-haired lad did a little two finger salut and headed off toward his car while Zayn ambled to his, still caught up with Harry’s parting words.

_“…you’re something else on that field, Malik.”_

And for once, Zayn felt like yeah, maybe he did have a little magic on the soccer field.

~O~

Zayn unlocked the front door to his home, setting his footie bag on the front porch so his mother wouldn’t scold him for bringing his dirty, smelly shoes and bag into the house.

It was only six-fifteen, and he was home, for once.

See, he had stayed behind after practice, only to find Harry packing up and slipping sandals on and heading to the parking lot with everyone else.

“Malik, why don’t you take the day off, yeah? You’ve trained hard enough that you deserve a day off, and we don’t want our star forward straining anything before the first game,” Harry had called out over his shoulder on his way out, leaving Zayn a little speechless.

He followed Harry’s orders, though, because Harry was his captain and also, well, ‘trained hard’ and ‘deserve a day off’ and ‘star forward’, but now that he had kind of gotten his head back on straight he discovered he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

He was used to practicing until eight or nine at night and then immediately diving into his homework before passing out right away, exhausted from both school and training.

Now, however, he was finished with all of  his homework- perks of being proactive and finishing his work early- and Harry had told him to take the day off, and he found that his life really was just based on training and school work.

He trudged up the stairs to his room, glad for once that his parents worked late and that his sisters were with friends, and he pulled his sweaty shirt off, throwing it on the floor.

“Damn, Malik,” a voice sounded from his bed and he jumped in surprise. “Look at those abs!”

He sighed in relief when he found it was only Niall, but then, wondered how in the world the blonde had managed to get inside his house- his _room_ \- without being let in.

“Wha- How-“ Zayn spluttered, finally going into shock, his brain too tired to fully function and understand what was happening.

Niall shrugged and slid off of Zayn’s bed, where he had been waiting, standing up and grinning.

“Climbed the ivy leading up to your balcony, you know, it’s kind of dangerous leaving your window open like that,” Niall explained, answering Zayn’s half-asked questions as to how he had arrived inside Zayn’s room. “Anyway, go jump in the shower, yeah? We’ll go do something, I reckon you don’t know what to do tonight, what with Captain Hazza telling you not to train and all.”

Zayn, for once, decided not to bother questioning Niall or how he knew so much about Zayn’s life, and followed the blonde’s directions, grabbing his towel and walking to the bathroom.

When he came back into his room, towel wrapped around his hips, Niall threw some clothing at him.

“I took the liberty of choosing the most dapper outfit I could find in your wardrobe,” Niall announced, and Zayn raised his eyebrows in response because why would he need to look good if they were just gonna go wander around?

It isn’t like he was trying to pull anyone, at least not tonight, or rather, for a while.

He had other things to focus on, like school, and their game next week, and trying not to think about Harry’s curls.

He slipped the outfit on anyway, finding that Niall had pulled out his favorite black, _tight_ skinny jeans, paired with a grey t-shirt and his leather jacket.

“So much black, Nialler,” Zayn stated, smirking because he knew that his closet was made up of mainly black, grey, and white clothing with the occasional maroon sweater.

“Not too many other choices, were there?” Niall retorted, waving his hands dramatically, and it was moments like this that Zayn could see how Niall was good friends with Louis and Liam and Harry as Niall copied Louis’ melodramatic movements.

Zayn just shrugged again.

“Now, go do whatever it is you do to get your hair to twirl upwards and we’ll be off,” Niall said, clapping his hands together.

Zayn still wasn’t sure where they were going to be _off_ to, but he figured it was better than sitting at home watching some princess movie with his sisters.

“Also, our dear Captain Hazza will be there,” now Zayn was really curious as to where they were going, “and as adorable as it is to watch you pine after him, you might want to tone down the heart eyes a bit. Maybe just make it a little less obvious, yeah?”

Zayn’s eyes widened comically and he coughed, “Wha- erm- tone down what? And make _what_ a little less obvious?”

Niall sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh boy, Malik, you’re in trouble. Just…try not to stare at Harry too much, maybe?”

Zayn turned to go to the bathroom to fix his hair, calling over his shoulder, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” while thinking that yeah, maybe he should tone down the heart eyes a bit.

It’s not that he had a crush, but rather, he…looked up to Harry a lot.

Still, he didn’t want Harry noticing and thinking he was weird or something.

~O~


	5. Chapter 5

“Look who’s here, HazzaBear,” Louis teased with a wink, imitating a comedic looking sultry smile while nudging Harry and pointing toward the door.

Harry rolled his eyes, his face blank and void of emotions, at least toward what Louis was saying, and instead, he turned to wave at Niall, who had just walked through the door with Zayn trailing behind him.

And yeah, Zayn looked fucking delicious in his tight jeans and dark clothing- Harry always did have a thing for the ‘badboy’ look- but Louis’ incessant teasing was getting on his nerves, especially because he mercilessly joked about Zayn all the goddamn time.

One would think Louis had a crush- had he not had Liam- with all the “Oh, look at his jaw bone” and “his eyes, Haz, his _eyes_ ” and “did you see how good he looked at practice today, and I’m not just talking about his ball control…I wonder if he can control…other balls like that.”

But then, Louis would take it further with all the “Haz, what about Zayn?” and “you  need a Liam, Hazzy, but like…your _own_ Liam” and “I think Zayn likes you.”

The problem wasn’t Zayn himself, but rather that Harry just really wasn’t looking.

Obviously Harry thought Zayn was attractive- he’d be insane if he didn’t- and he knew that Zayn would probably be willing to hang out more or even hook up, but Harry saw in Zayn’s eyes what he saw in a lot of other’s peoples eyes: hope. Hope that they’d be _the one_ to change the infamous Harry Styles and get him to fall in love with them.

It just wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

He had the footie team to think about and school and his future career and well, footie.

Basically, what it all boiled down to was that he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with a relationship and he really didn’t want a relationship to get in the way of his future.

He was _going somewhere_.

He was going somewhere and nothing, not even fucking true love, was going to get in the way of that.

So, he ignored Louis’ teasing- and Zayn’s heart eyes- and smiled broadly at Niall and Zayn.

“Hey lads, how’s it going?” Harry asked, pulling Niall into some weird ‘man’ hug before doing the same with Zayn, who smelled as good as he looked (what kind of cologne was that?).

It was just him, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn for the night- Louis, Liam, and Harry had all agreed they needed a relaxing night with the lads- and while it was usually only Liam, Louis, Harry, and Niall, none of them cared that Zayn was joining them, instead, welcoming the newcomer with open arms.

This was slightly unusual for them as they had all grown up together and Zayn was also in a grade below all of them except Niall, but oddly enough, Zayn fit in perfectly with the group and even added excitement with his ‘newness’ as they had all grown used to each other by now.

“Where’s the pints?” Niall asked after everyone settled down from their arrival, and the blonde began rummaging around the fridge in search of a beer or something alcoholic.

Harry could tell Louis was about to tease Niall for ‘being an alcoholic’ like he usually did and the curly-haired lad wanted to stop the argument about Niall’s Irish roots, so he cut in, pointing Niall in the correct direction, “Bottom shelf, Nialler. Can you grab me one as well, please?”

Louis let out an indignant squawk- either at Harry’s interruption to his banter or because Harry was actually drinking- and turned to glare at Harry.

“You’re _drinking_ , oh holy, mighty, above all, Captain?” Louis exclaimed, causing Zayn to look startled, whether for Harry’s safety or for how red Louis was growing, no one really knew.

Harry just shrugged, rolling in shoulders back in a relaxing manners and turning to look expectantly at Niall, who stood paused in the fridge, five bottles of beer dangling precariously between his fingertips.

It shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise and it wasn’t like he was planning on getting fully drunk, it was just nice to relax with a beer and his mates sometimes, but Harry understood why Louis was freaking out.

He rarely drank.

“Chill out, Lou. I just need to unwind a little. One beer can never hurt anything,” Harry chided his feather-haired best friend softly, grabbing Louis’ hand and rubbing his long, pale fingers over the back of Louis’.

“Only your six-pack,” Zayn muttered under his breath, making a sarcastic comment quietly and surprising Harry with his humor.

Harry barked out a laugh before questioning, “Which one? The one in the fridge or the one on my body?”

~O~

The lights were shining, bright and wide, spreading across the field until the boys were under a halo, and the air was crisp, cold, showing the deep inhales and exhales of breath being taken by both the players and the fans who had come to the game, despite the chill.

There was a nervous tension that hung over the fake, green grass, settling in on the shoulders of both teams and the supporters on the silver bleachers.

The two teams were huddled up on their respective sides, staying close to conserve body heat and to prepare for the game that was about to commence in a matter of minutes.

The home team was in black and white, with their opponents in green and white.

“Okay, this is it,” Harry announced, pulling his team in close and looking each one of them in the eye, lingering more on Louis for support and comfort.

His nerves were at an all time high, and while he was trying to use them to his advantage at the moment, he knew he wouldn’t calm down until he had saved his first goal.

He tugged at his black socks, adjusting the shin guards underneath until they were comfortable.

“All I have to say,” he continued, “…is that we’re prepared. We’re ready. We’ve trained hard and we can fucking do this. This is _our_ turf and _our_ home field. This win? This win is _ours_ , too.”

He could feel Louis’ hand digging into his shoulder, uncomfortably squeezing his muscle, but it was comforting because this was the way it had been for the past ten, fifteen years or so.

He looked at his best friend and smirked wildly before giving the same look to Niall, who stood on his other side.

“Now, kick your shins guards,” Harry yelled, beginning the traditional chant and equipment check.

Him and Louis created the chant when they were just young boys, trying to get themselves pumped up for one of their co-ed, under-sevens game and they had been doing it ever since, finding that it raised the energy and spirits of their team.

The sound of cleats kicking shin guards rang out across the field.

“Clap your hands,” Harry screamed, and all of the lads jumped once before clapping their hands together three times in unison.

Harry could practically feel Louis filthy smile and his smirk grew even wider.

“Grab your balls,” he cried, and Niall was unable to hold in his unabashed laughter.

Everyone took their right hand and put it on the crotch of the person to their right, making sure their teammates were wearing their cups so that their testicles weren’t harmed at any point in the game.

Harry could practically feel his tension dissipating as Louis teasingly bucked his hips forward into Harry’s large hand, and he had a feeling that if they won this game, Louis and Liam would be inviting him to a private victory celebration.

“Kick your cleats,” he whispered, using his lowest voice possible in order to break the energy down a little bit before the climax of the chant.

With their hands still holding their teammates cups, each lad kicked feet with their teammate (they had specific spots in the circle and predetermined kicking partners).

“Kick,” Harry began.

“Kick,” Louis joined in on the second chant.

“Kick.”

“Kick,” Liam added his voice to his teammates.

“Kick.”

“Kick.”

“Kick,” Zayn’s voice stood out among the voices.

“Kick.”

“Kick!”

“Kick!!”

“Kick,” Niall cried, his voice predatory as the teams’ energy rose.

“Kick Start,” Harry screamed, and all at once they broke apart, jumping up and down with anticipation and jogging lightly to their respective places on the field.

***

Five minutes in, and Harry had saved his first goal.

His nerves were completely gone and he was in the zone, calculating every move and touch of the ball as it flew across the field.

This was his _home_.

***

Twenty minutes in, and the game was still tied at 0-0.

He had saved two more shots, doing his part to keep the score where from rising for their opponents, and he was yelling out orders to his teammates, his vantage point in the goal perfect for commanding his team to victory.

***

Two minutes before half-time and Louis shoots the ball up and over the defenders heads, leaving it to fall in the perfect spot.

Zayn sprints as fast as he possibly can and Harry can tell that Zayn had gotten faster from their after-practice work-outs because the dark-haired forward zooms past the defenders and is in control of the ball not moments later.

He shoots.

It’s no surprise that he scores.

There’s the first goal and not moments later the whistle announces the end of the first half, with the home team in the lead.

***

Start of the second half finds their opponents playing dirtier, their spirits diminished a little when they find that they still can’t make a goal on Harry or even get past the defending line.

Harry had urged his team not to see this as a victory just yet.

They still had a whole other half after all.

***

Twenty minutes into the second half and Louis snakes by the defense and places a shot.

It’s far from perfection but it’s just perfect enough to whizz right by the goalies fingertips and hit the back of the net with a whoosh and a cheer.

Harry might be a little jealous that Louis and Zayn are hugging, but only because he’s all alone in the goal and Liam is too far away to celebrate with.

***

After Louis’ goal, the other teams’ spirits sink even more and if the other team thinks they’re defeated Harry knows that they probably will be.

His team is in high spirits though, and that’s all he has to worry about.

***

With five minutes left, he know they most likely won the game.

It becomes a sure bet when Niall dribbles down the right side, handing Zayn the perfect cross.

Zayn heads the ball into the goal.

Harry can tell from the other side of the field that Louis made a quiff joke at Zayn.

Probably something along the lines of, “Wow, pretty boy. You sure your quiff can handle the headers?”

He smiles when Zayn gives Louis a light smack to the shoulder because that’s exactly what he would have done if he were close enough to his best friend.

***

The whistle blows, indicating the end of the game and Harry’s never felt so relieved or happy in a while.

It’s like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders.

He can do this.

 _They_ can do this.

He evens allows Zayn to hold onto him a little longer than called for when the ‘star’ forward gives him a congratulations hug.

Or maybe, he allowed himself to hold onto Zayn longer than strictly necessary.

***

He was right; Louis and Liam do invite him over for a victory celebration.

~O~

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Fifty- and then, Louis kept yelling at the top of his lungs, and it was like, three a.m.- sixty- so obviously we weren’t really in a position to be yelling because it was so early and we didn’t want to- seventy- get in trouble. So, Liam, bless him, just turns around and fucking plants one on him- eighty- and Louis just stops everything. He stopped talking, stopped moving, I’m pretty sure he stopped _breathing_ \- ninety- and stares at Liam for a while. We thought it worked, but then, he starts screaming at the top of his lungs, ‘I did it! I fucking did it! My life is complete!’- one hundred- ‘Liam Payne, will you marry me?’ and well, we were doomed at that point,” Harry stopped talking for a moment, and all that could be heard was their heavy breathing and the thump of the soccer balls as it hit either their feet or thighs before shooting back into the air.

Harry and Zayn were juggling, at seven in the morning on a Saturday, nonetheless, and Harry was telling Zayn stories from their younger years in high school.

While Zayn wanted to hear more stories about Harry in particular, the curly-haired lad had mainly been telling stories about Louis and Liam, and was currently in the middle of telling about how Liam and Louis had gotten together.

“So, then what happened?” Zayn panted, right after Harry announced they were on one hundred and twenty.

Harry was silent for a little while, and Zayn was a little worried that he wouldn’t finish the story or that it was a sore point from the older lad’s life, but then Harry was continuing.

“Well, the sirens started at that point, ‘cause we weren’t really supposed to be on the field and Louis was making enough ruckus to alert the neighbors of our presence- hundred fifty- but Lou had gone back to staring silently once the sirens started but this time he was staring at _me_ , and it was kind of worrying- hundred sixty- ‘cause he was rarely that quiet, as you probably know, but Liam and I were trying to get him to move so we wouldn’t get caught- hundred seventy- and he just wouldn’t. So, right as the cops are getting there, he goes, ‘I love Liam, but Haz, how could I do this to you?’ and he looked so stricken and worried- hundred eighty- and I just started laughing. And well, the cops showed up and we made sure Louis stayed silent and convinced them that we were just trying to play some footie and they asked us to leave and that was that,” Harry concluded, looking thoughtful and reminiscent.

He didn’t look upset, though, only as if he were thinking of a good laugh.

“Wait- but, why would you be upset?” Zayn questioned as they hit two hundred juggles, and he almost lost his control on the ball as he asked.

Harry was quiet for a little bit more, and he looked a little unsure of something.

“Two-thirty,” he muttered quietly, and he was still looking skeptical. “Look, I get that things like Louis and Liam aren’t always accepted, so I generally don’t tell people or whatever but you get along with our friend group fine so…well, just don’t tell people this, yeah?”

It was the first time Zayn had seen the curly-haired lad anything but sure of himself, and he wondered what could be so bad that Harry was hesitant to tell him.

“After Cazza and I broke up,” Harry began, and he saw Zayn’s questioning look, “Caroline, I mean- two-fifty- we dated freshman year and part of sophomore year. Well, Lou and I started…hooking up. And when that whole story- the Liam and Lou getting together one- happened, Lou and I were still hooking up, but I knew that he really liked Liam and honestly, Louis and I were more of an exploration thing, ya know? Two-seventy, like a figuring my sexuality out type thing. He showed me I liked boys as well, and I guess I showed him that Liam was The One for him.”

At the end of Harry’s explanation, Zayn knew why Harry was hesitant to tell him.

He himself had gotten some shit for liking guys and he knew that people weren’t always so understanding about things such as sexuality, something Harry must understand as well.

He wanted to show Harry that he wasn’t one of those people, though, so he took a reach out.

“I had a hook up buddy like that, last year. It was fun and stuff, and he showed me and taught me a lot of things, but it was more just learning than anything…for both of us,” Zayn commented, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of the ball bouncing from his foot into the air, instead of the way Harry was looking at him as if he already knew what Zayn’s sexuality was.

He made the mistake of looking up, only to find Harry watching him, juggling the ball with ease, as if he were an open book.

Zayn thought he hid his sexuality well, but apparently, Harry had seen right through him.

It was Harry’s green eyes staring at him that made him lose his concentration, and he groaned aloud as his ball went careening off to the side and away from his reach.

“Hah!” Harry exclaimed, still juggling and making it look extremely easy. “I win, Malik!”

Zayn jogged off to grab his ball and Harry announced that they were going to run some laps.

They switched shoes in silence, tying up their laces and watching their breath float visibly across the cold soccer pitch before straightening up.

Harry started off, his long legs carrying him quickly and Zayn was surprised to find that he was able to keep up with the older boy for once.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he had finally gotten in better shape, or because Harry was running slower, but it felt good running side by side.

Zayn had one more question, though, so he asked it.

“Why do you do all this?”

Harry looked sideways at him, confusion spreading across his features.

“Do all what?” he asked back, never losing stride.

“This,” Zayn gestured at what they were doing. “Why do you do all this extra training? I mean, you’re the goalie, you don’t need to be in as good of shape as a mid-fielder, or a forward.”

Harry nodded in understanding and didn’t answer Zayn for a while, in fact, it was a whole lap later before he even opened his mouth again.

“I used to be a forward, you know,” he murmured, his breathing a little labored, but not too shallow. “And even when I switched to goalie, I guess, I didn’t want to lose that skill? I _like_ being able to beat Louis in one-on-one matches. And I figure, scouts are more likely to want a goalie who is just as good as a forward as he is in goal, so I just trained a little extra for that, and then, I trained a little more. I dunno, really.”

And Zayn nodded because he understood, even with Harry’s bad explanation, exactly what the other lad was saying.

~O~

It was the end of the period right before lunch, and Harry, Zayn, and Louis all had physical education together.

While they usually just stayed in the classroom, learning about nutrition or whatever (it was more of a health class than anything), that day they had gone out to the track to be tested running the mile.

They were back in the locker room, though, showering and putting their regular clothing back on before lunch.

Harry and Louis had already showered, and were at their lockers, dressing slowly because of their constant bickering, and Zayn had just finished showering, ambling over to where his friends were (and yes, he considered Harry and Louis his friends now, and he supposed they did, too).

His towel was hanging low on his hips, showing off his defined V and abs, and he hadn’t quite dried off fully, so there were little droplets of water running down his chest and dripping from his hair onto his torso.

As he walked closer, he heard Harry mutter, not-so-quietly, “On your knees for me, Tommo,” with a loud guffaw of laughter following, and he turned the corner to find them wrestling a little, Louis clearly losing.

The moment he walked up to them, though, Harry’s gaze flashed to him, and the curly-haired lad just stopped all movement completely, giving Louis the upper hand.

Zayn was frozen, much like the curly-haired lad, as Harry’s forest green eyes travelled up and down Zayn’s bare torso, flickering to where the towel barely covered his navel and was slipping down off of his body.

Harry coughed and broke away his gaze, muttering, “I’m just, uh, I’ll just wait outside for you guys,” before speeding away from both Louis and Zayn.

Zayn gulped, and moved to his locker, dressing swiftly.

“Well, you guys have some _major_ sexual tension,” Louis announced, waiting for Zayn to get dressed and leaning against the lockers. “You should do something about that. God knows Hazza won’t.”

Zayn just stared at him, at a loss for words and still tingling from where Harry had looked him up and down.

~O~


	7. Chapter 7

“There you are,” Louis announced loudly, slipping into the room where Harry was currently hiding and closing the door shut behind him.

It was amazing, the difference between sound levels in the rooms, with the front living room loud and boisterous, while this quiet bedroom basically blocked all sound out of the square insides.

Harry watched as his feather-haired best friend strode up to him, and without any warning, latched their mouths together in a rough kiss.

His long fingers quickly made their way to Louis’ hips, settling right above the edge of Louis’ jeans, and Harry kept their bodies close together, although not fully pressed against one another.

They kissed with precise, practiced movements, ones only gained from years of practice, and when Louis’ hands made their way to his curls, he melted even more into Louis’ touch.

He knew that it was probably not normal for best friends to do this, especially when one of them had a boyfriend that they loved very much, but Harry was so wound up from school and footie and he-who-must-not-be-thought-of and Louis knew exactly what to do to wind him down.

It also helped that Liam knew everything that Louis did, and probably suggested that Louis should find him and do this because Liam knew him almost as well as Louis did.

Louis broke the kiss, pressing one more soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before fully pulling away.

“Now, do you need me to get you off as well? Or can we save that for later when Liam will join?” Louis questioned, and while his tone was light and lilting, Harry knew the offer was very, very serious.

It was kind of crazy how he had been joining Louis and Liam for the past two months, hell, it was crazy that two months had already gone by.

The team had been doing amazing, winning almost every single game- really, they only lost one thus far- and now, they were in the Championships.

If they won their next game they would make it to Regionals.

Regionals.

This was what Harry had worked his entire life for- okay, maybe not singularly _this_ , but still, it was that big, and they had a chance to make it and to _win_.

Regardless, it was two weeks before the big game, and as with every other season, Harry’s parents had left town under the pretense that they needed a vacation.

In reality, ever since his freshman year, when they really had gone on vacation and Harry had thrown a party, they left Harry alone for the exact same weekend so that he could throw this party.

They always said the same thing, ‘Be safe, Harold Edward Styles,’ and they all pretended to be ignorant as to what Harry really was going to do that weekend.

But it had kind of become a tradition for the past three years, to have this party two weeks before the big Championship game.

Harry viewed it as a precourser to the celebration that would occur if they actually did win, and also, hoped it would help the team let enough steam loose for them to focus for the next two weeks.

So, he supplied enough alcohol to get the entire team drunk- but not too drunk, they did have nine a.m. practice the next day- and opened his house up to the guys’ and girls’ footie teams (and no one else; he was a pretentious soccer prick, so what?).

And it seemed to be working because everyone was enjoying themselves, well, everyone but himself, that is.

He just…it was hard not to worry about things getting broken, or if they would win the Big Game, or what the scouts would think of him, or what was to come after this all- meaning high school- and he just had a really hard time letting go and not worrying, even with Louis right there, still close to him.

“You ready to come out?” Louis asked softly, running a finger against Harry’s cheek. Harry thought vaguely that everything would be easier if he just loved Louis as something more than a friend, but he couldn’t force himself to feel anything.

So, he put on a brave face- more like a grimaced smile- and nodded.

“Ready, ready,” he replied, squeezing Louis’ hips tightly.

~O~

Only thirty minutes later, Harry found himself tipsy and well on his way to being comfortably drunk- he’ll thank Louis for the constant stream of drinks being shoved into his hand later- and he was feeling much, much better than he had been earlier.

Of course, now all he could think about was standing up straight and seeming somewhat sober so that his team wasn’t able to make fun of their always serious Captain the next day.

He supposed he was succeeding, too.

In any case, it was time, and he signaled to Louis as much, who proceeded to turn off the loud music, replacing it with soft jazz.

All the returning players whistled and cheered with excitement, while the new players looked around confused.

The confused people got the message, though, when everyone else spread into a wide circle, sprawling out in various positions on the floor and couches.

Harry took the props- a can of whip cream, a bottle of chocolate, three bottles of vodka and multiple shot glasses, a blind fold, and a small rope- and put them in the center of the circle.

He heard Zayn whisper to Niall, “What are we doing?” and he turned to face the dark-haired lad, answering the lad directly as he intercepted the question directed toward Niall.

“Truth or Dare,” he announced, speaking to Zayn, but projecting his voice so that everyone could hear. “Rules are the same as regular Truth or Dare, but if you don’t do the dare or don’t want to answer, you drink. Simple as that.”

He looked around to see nervous smiles break out on everyone’s faces, and he could practically feel the tension emanating around the room- the girls’ sitting next to each other in clumps and the guys trying to look cool, calm, and collected.

“Now, Tommo wanted to begin, so bring it in, Lou,” Harry winked at Louis, taking his spot by his best friend’s side, and watching as Louis looked around the room to find the first victim.

Of course, Louis couldn’t break tradition, and he chose Niall like usual.

“Niall, I dare you to…” Louis put his fingers to his chin as if stroking a beard, and Harry knew Louis would involve him in this, as Louis had every single time. “…ahh, okay, we’ll start out easy, yeah? Haz, shirt off.”

Harry did as directed, not questioning Louis, and some of the younger girls squealed at the sight of his abs.

He rolled his eyes at that, if only they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

Louis pushed him on his back in the middle of the circle and took the can of whip cream, shaking it and creating an elaborate pattern on his chest and navel, spending extra time on the spot right above his boxer line, where the hair began to trail down.

“Lick it off, all of it,” Louis instructed, staring the blonde in the eyes, and Niall just smirked, moving to straddle Harry’s legs.

“With pleasure,” Niall murmured, pressing his tongue to Harry’s chest and making an exaggerated show of licking every drop of the whip cream off of Harry’s body, spending extra time on his navel.

It was quite the show, and definitely an excellent way to kick off the game, and if anyone saw Niall adjust himself afterwards, no one commented, but Harry did gaze questioningly at Zayn, who looked tense and whispered something to Niall, who gave him a sympathetic glance and replied with something that looked a lot like, “Sorry about that, mate…tradition.”

The game continued, and soon enough, the blind fold had been used, and at least one of the bottles was empty.

An hour in, it was Niall’s turn again, and Harry shrunk a little when the blonde’s very blue eyes fell directly on him.

Niall was smirking, and it was hard to tell that he had even been drinking as he gazed at Harry with a calculated expression.

“Hazza, Hazza, Hazza,” Niall called out predatorily, his teeth glinting under the light. “You thought you could escape, didn’t you, dear Captain of ours?”

Harry laughed nervously, knowing that Niall had something planned for him, and he wasn’t sure he would like whatever Niall had planned, he rarely did.

One year, it included taking a body shot off of Louis’ bare arsehole, which he really wouldn’t mind, had it been just him and Louis and Liam and maybe Niall, but in front of the entire soccer team? No thanks.

Niall looked more serious though, and Harry quickly finds out why.

“We’ll go middle school style, but with a dirtier twist, yeah?” Niall began, and Harry definitely had a suspicion as to what Niall was going to say, although, not who. “A minute of full out snogging- tongue and all Styles, I’ve seen your tongue, put it to good use- with…”

Niall made a show of looking around the circle slowly, eyes grazing over girls’ who preened, hoping to get lucky, and their teammates, who just rolled their own eyes, before coming to a halt to his right, and Harry internally groaned, because of course Niall would, _of fucking course_.

“…Zayn,” Niall locked eyes with Harry again, taunting him and daring him to do something else entirely.

Harry broke the gaze and turned to look at Zayn, making sure to keep his gaze expressionless as he viewed the younger lad, who was jiggling his foot nervously and looking a little too eager, if he thought about it.

He stood up, making his way across the circle, eyes still trained on Zayn’s, but instead of going to where Zayn sat, he stopped in the center and poured himself a shot.

The alcohol burned down his throat and he closed his eyes, wincing as the image of Zayn’s disappointed face burned itself to the back of his eyelids.

When he opened them again, he made sure not to look at the dark-haired lad, in fear of doing something foolish, and he clapped his hands.

“And now folks, the party is over,” he announced, finding he had had enough alcohol and interaction for the night. “Make sure you get a ride from one of the DDs- Liam, Josh, or Cazza- and lads, I’ll see you at nine tomorrow morning. Make sure to drink loads of water tonight.”

He could feel the gazes of Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam and Caroline on him- confused and worried- but he shrugged them off, ushering people out of his home.

Of course, once everyone had left, except those five, he couldn’t very well ignore them, but he tried his hardest.

“I’m off to bed,” he muttered, turning to the stairs, only to be stopped by Liam’s hand.

“Wait, mate, you don’t wanna-?” Liam gestured to Louis as he whispered to Harry softly, and Louis wiggled his eyes provocatively, even adding in a little hip thrust when Harry’s expression didn’t change.

Harry’s green eyes flickered over to Zayn for a fleeting moment, and he met the younger lad’s dark, hurt, confused eyes before he looked at Liam again.

“Not tonight, LiLi,” he murmured, saluting them with two fingers and making his way up the stairs to his bedroom. “Goodnight.”

~O~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait to continue this! (: .xx


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! I had a busy- and weird- weekend and it took a little while to get into the right mood to write again! Hope you enjoy (: .xx

Zayn sat in English, ignoring the teacher completely and twirling his pen between his lips absentmindedly.

He had his eyes trained down on his desk, half-lidded, making him look as if he were practically asleep, but instead of being tired, Zayn was simply thinking.

Of course, he was thinking of one specific thing/person/moment and yeah, it probably wouldn’t be hard to guess who that person was.

“Styles, what makes the title tie in with the people in the novel?” Mrs. Selly barked, her voice uptight and nasally in a way that made the students cringe in their seats.

Zayn kind of wanted to cover his ears when she spoke.

“Many of the characters fight with their pride throughout the story and their prejudices of the other characters. For example, Elizabeth Bennet is too prideful to admit that she may have misjudged Darcy, and for a while, this keeps them from being together,” Harry answered, not missing a beat.

Mrs. Selly frowned as if she was hoping that Harry might answer wrong, which really, why would she even think that Harry would answer wrong?

Almost every single teacher knew that he did just as well in school as he did on the soccer field.

He was just _that kid_.

The golden boy.

The one who knew every answer.

The one who succeeded and excelled at anything and everything.

The one with a lot of friends.

The one who, apparently, didn’t want to kiss Zayn.

So, yeah, Harry was obviously the reason Zayn was distracted.

He just didn’t get what was so wrong with him that Harry couldn’t even snog him for a minute.

Was he unattractive?

Was he weird?

On Sunday, they had practice and afterwards Zayn stayed to train extra with Harry, like they had been doing for the past couple of weeks, except Harry had reverted back to his old ways of grunting out instructions and barely speaking a word.

He even tried approaching the subject when they were running, but Harry had just pushed the pace faster and he hadn’t been able to talk and run at the same time.

And now, it was Tuesday and Harry still hadn’t said much of anything to him.

Zayn had opened his eyes fully and turned to look at the curly-haired lad while he answered, and he kept staring, even when Harry met his gaze and quickly looked away.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and then Niall- he had skipped a year of English, hence, being in Harry and Niall’s class (and Louis and Liam)- whispered in his ear.

“Mate, you really gotta stop with the puppy eyes,” Niall’s breath was hot on his earlobe and he moved away a little uncomfortably.

He glared at the blonde. “I’m not making puppy eyes!”

Niall shrugged. “And you also aren’t butt hurt over what happened Saturday night.”

Zayn huffed loudly, and if he had been looking anywhere other than Niall he would have noticed that Harry was now glancing at him from across the room.

Niall had asked Zayn what was up with the whole Harry-not-kissing-him-thing, and Zayn had maybe snapped at the blonde for it, which was why Niall now thought he was butt hurt over the whole thing.

It was more that he just wanted to know _why_.

He had never thought of himself as unattractive before and now he found himself looking in the mirror every chance he got, wondering if he had some fatal flaw that made him unkissable.

Did he have a gap between his teeth that he hadn’t noticed before?

“I’m not _butt hurt_ ,” Zayn retorted harshly, and a little louder than he should have because Mrs. Selly’s attention turned on him.

He slumped a little further in his seat under her gaze.

“Mr. Malik, would you like to enlighten the class why Mr. Horan thinks you’re _butt hurt_ , or is it an inappropriate time to be talking about such things?” the teacher asked sharply, and the class snickered at the pun- many people were well aware that Zayn was bi.

“Inappropriate time,” he mumbled quietly, just wanting to go home and hide in his bed.

“There’s never an inappropriate time to talk about being butt hurt,” Louis announced loudly, and while the feather-haired lad was most likely to get in trouble for the outburst, Zayn was glad that the attention was taken off of him.

People whispered and giggled at Louis, who looked very smug at his comment.

“That’s just ‘cause you like when your butt is hurt, Tommo,” Niall hollered at Louis, who gasped in mock offense and then turned to Liam.

“Only if it’s because of LiLi,” he said saccharinely sweet at Liam, who sat blushing but squeezed Louis’ hand above their desks anyway.

Mrs. Selly looked a bit exasperated, and practically tossed her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice onto her desk.

Thankfully, the bell rang at that exact moment- what are the chances, right? So, cliché- and the class quickly stood up and bolted from the room.

Harry, in particular, left the room at a record pace, almost as if he had been waiting for the class to be over.

~O~

Zayn sat against the wall with his headphones blaring The Raconteurs, his eyes closed, and a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

He was more just holding the cigarette and letting it diminish in his hand, but occasionally, he lifted it to his lips and took a sharp inhale, enjoying the way it settled into his lungs.

Smoking wasn’t a habit that he kept up, but when he was stressed or thinking too hard it was something that helped him relax a little.

Also, he liked the way it made him look- like kind of a badass- so he did it occasionally.

His best friend Danny from his old school told him he was ridiculous for smoking on occasion because it made him look cool, but he always just shrugged and lit up.

He knew it was a bad habit, especially as an athlete, and figured that Harry would probably- okay definitely- practically murder him if the curly-haired lad ever found out, but, he just _needed_ this (the ‘this’ being something like something familiar/calming/the defiance/knowing that Harry would be pissed).

He was keeping his eyes tightly shut and exhaling a particular long inhale when he felt a dark shadow cover the sun that had been piercing his face warmly.

Not really caring he lifted the cigarette to his lips again- eyes still shut- slightly annoyed that someone was interrupting his attempt at relaxation.

The cigarette, however, never made it to his lips, though, because it was snatched from his hand as his earphones were simultaneously torn from his ears.

Zayn opened his eyes to see a white converse viciously stomping on his cigarette, and he looked up to find none other than Harry standing in front of him, glaring with a vengeance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, looking down at the crushed cigarette.

Zayn watched as Harry’s long fingers clenched and unclenched, turning paler than they were originally.

He shrugged. “Taking a smoke?”

His answer seemed to piss the curly-haired lad off even more, and Harry moved closer, his arm swinging, and for a moment Zayn was sure that Harry was about to slap him, but instead, the curly-haired lad’s hand slapped against the brick building and suddenly they were face to face.

Harry’s green eyes were sparkling with rage and Zayn squirmed a bit under the close proximity.

“Goddamnit, Zayn,” Harry pushed away, turning and squatting, his hands clutching his hair tightly, shoulders heaving and shaking a little.

He stayed like that for a while, and Zayn was worried that he had made the older lad cry, but then Harry was standing up again and his eyes were red from tears, but his face was expressionless and that was almost worse.

“I never want to see or hear of you smoking ever again,” Harry commanded, and Zayn wasn’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of his Captain’s rage, but he now understood how some of the other bloke’s felt when Harry yelled at them during practice.

He nodded because really, what else was he to do in this situation?

He didn’t want to be kicked off the team.

Harry looked at him, this time a bit confused. “Why are you even smoking?”

And he would regret his next words later, but he immediately retorted, “Why wouldn’t you kiss me?”

Harry flinched back even more and the space between them seemed infinite as they stared at each other, neither backing down.

He was the first to break the gaze, unable to look into Harry’s bright green eyes anymore.

“You smoking because of that?” Harry laughed humorlessly, and he couldn’t have been more accurate, so Zayn stayed silent, not answering the most likely rhetorical question.

When he didn’t answer, though, Harry’s gaze turned incredulous.

“Are you serious? You’re smoking because of what happened on Saturday?”

Zayn shrugged and tugged his earphones from the ground, wrapping them around his ipod and shoving it back into his pocket.

“I just- I want to know why you wouldn’t just-“ Zayn started, voice quiet but rising in volume with every word.

Harry interrupted, though, before he could finish.

“-Because _this_ , Zayn,” Harry retorted sharply, gesturing at the cigarette and back to Zayn himself, and his expression was unreadable, dark and intense with his eyebrows creased together, forming a line between his eyes. “It would have _meant_ something, something more to you, that’s why.”

“Oh,” was all Zayn could think to reply because maybe, well, maybe he had been reading the situation all wrong.

It wasn’t that he was necessarily unattractive- he had seen Harry check him out before- but rather, that the older lad thought he _liked_ him, which was a ridiculous notion in itself…wasn’t it?

Harry sighed, tugging at his curls again, which had grown and were now hanging right above his eye-line.

“I don’t- you think- like I don’t-“ Zayn spluttered, still trying to understand what Harry was implying.

Harry watched him, eyes questioning.

And the thing was, he was about to say, ‘I don’t like you like that,’ but with Harry’s gaze on him so intensely, he found he couldn’t find the voice to say it.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly- both from his newfound confidence and also from the cigarette.

“What?” Harry exclaimed as he shook his hair around and smoothed it down with his right hand.

“Kiss me,” Zayn repeated, and he had no idea why he was doing this, other than the fact that he needed to prove something to the older lad. “Kiss me and I’ll show you that it won’t mean something more.”

Harry looked to be fighting himself on something, but then he was taking long strides toward where Zayn was standing and then he was _there_ , just invading every inch of Zayn’s space, and his big hands were cradling Zayn’s face, and then, there was a solid pressure on his lips and wow- wow- wow- was all Zayn could think as he clutched at Harry’s solid biceps.

Zayn would have thought that Harry would kiss all biting and harshly, but the older lad’s lips were soft and sweet against his, caring, almost.

And when Harry pulled away, lips a little redder than before, Zayn wasn’t sure he had proved anything at all, other than the fact that yeah, maybe Harry had been right after all.

~O~


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! School has been super busy and I just started working, but here's another chapter. About two more chapters and an epilogue left. (: .xx

Harry sat in the locker room, shirtless, toying with his jersey and tracing the number glued onto the familiar material.

00.

It had been his number for as long as he could remember, just like Louis’ had always been 17 and Liam’s had been 12 and Niall’s 99.

Zayn’s was 1; a little voice in the back of his head nagged him, as if the fact that 0 and 1 were next to each other meant something.

But the placement of numbers in numerical order meant very little, just like the kiss he had shared with Zayn meant very little.

“Fuck,” the curly-haired lad moaned, shoving his face into his jersey and smelling the comforting scent of laundry detergent and always-present hint of grass.

He didn’t want to think about kissing Zayn anymore, even if it had been on his mind more often than not as of late, but it was distracting and he had other things to worry about, like the game they were about to play in three hours maybe, or how it was by far the biggest game of the season, or maybe about the essay he needed to edit, or what he was going to fucking do with his life.

But all he kept thinking about was kissing Zayn, and that was absolutely ridiculous.

What was he becoming?

A love sick, distracted, unfocused, silly fool of a little boy was what he was becoming, and all because of one stupid kiss with one insignificant bloke who he didn’t even care about (a complete lie).

He just wanted to go back to the way things were before- before Zayn that is- when all he focused on was school and soccersoccersoccersoccer.

“Hazza?” a lilting voice called out, and it was wrong because this was a guy’s locker room and that voice was most certainly a woman’s, but he sighed in relief all the same.

“Huh,” he grunted noncommittally, trying to make it seem as if he weren’t just driving himself crazy.

He extracted his face from his jersey to see Caroline making her way around the lockers and toward where he was sitting.

She sat down next to him, the metal cold against their skin, and leaned against his shoulder.

He smiled lightly, grateful for her comforting presence.

“How ya holding up, Tiger?” she questioned, her face shifting against his shoulder so that she could look up at him with wide eyes, mascara and eyeliner shadowing her orbs and making them shine.

Everything would have been easier, he thought, had they worked out.

“S’okay,” he mumbled, not meeting her gaze and knowing that she would know he wasn’t really okay at all.

“Are you nervous?”

And yes, he wanted to scream, of course he was nervous, but no…not really because…well, because of a fucking boy, and how could he say that?

He’d sound absolutely ridiculous.

So Harry settle for, “Course I am, Cazza. I’m not a robot, silly.”

Caroline snorted- how unladylike- and Harry laughed with her, more because he loved how she laughed than anything.

It reminded him how easy it was with her, how fun and carefree it was, and he missed hanging out with her a lot.

“Hey, I’m- erm- I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately…things have been really busy.”

“Oh, honey,” Caroline cooed, and she held his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “I know you’ve been busy and have a lot on your mind…just remember, if you need to talk about _anything_ \- and I mean anything, even if you think it’s silly- you can, okay?”

Harry nodded, and it sounded a lot like she knew something that he didn’t, and maybe, well, maybe she’d be able to give him advice about Zayn.

“You won’t laugh?” Harry muttered, unsure about if he really wanted to confide in someone about his thoughts on Zayn, but he couldn’t talk to Louis, Liam, or Niall about it, all for different reasons, and Caroline seemed to be the best one to ask.

She mimed zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key, and he took a deep breath, trying to sum up the courage to even tell her about this.

Before he could speak, though, she asked, “Does this have anything to do with the pretty bloke with the super cut cheek bones that you were kissing the other day?”

All Harry could do was nod, and in his daze, he really couldn’t speak now, because how the hell did she know about that?

Caroline understood that he didn’t really know what to say, so she continued.

“Well, darling, I’m assuming you think it’s silly and distracting to want someone in more than a hook up buddy way- and correct me if I’m wrong, please,” he didn’t correct her because she was right, obviously, when was she not- “and I’m also assuming that this model of a bloke- Zayn, is his name I believe- actually likes you, for some reason that neither of us will ever understand.”

“Now, you being emotionally retarded probably tried pushing him away, which someone resulted in kissing because you always kiss someone when you’re trying to push them away,” –Harry was taken back to the time when he was trying to tell Caroline he was gay and ended up kissing her instead- “but now, you’re confused because you have these feelings for him, which you’re denying are feelings, and you don’t know what to do.”

“Am I correct?” she asked, watching with a satisfied smirk when he nodded, yes.

“Hmph,” Caroline looked up to the ceiling in thought.

Harry was almost regretting asking her about it, and also wondering how she knew basically everything that was happening, but he figured it only testified to how well she really knew him and if anything, she’d be able to give him good advice.

“Okay Captain, this is what’s going to happen,” Caroline finally spoke again. “You’re going to go play your little soccer game because this is what you’ve been working for all year- years?- and you’re going to win. We both know there will be scouts here, both from universities and from professional teams, so you’re going to showcase every skill you have and blow their minds.”

“Once you win, you’ll find Zayn, tell him that you like him, and then, have victory sex because we both know you’re a horny fucker and always fuck on the first date, you slag. In the morning, when you wake up cuddling with him, your first instinct will be to run and hide and leave, and yes, you will leave, but only to the kitchen where you’ll make him breakfast. After that, you’ll call me, freak out, and then, live happily ever after with your model boyfriend.”

Caroline seemed rather pleased with her plan, and at some point had stood up, pacing in front of him.

She stopped walking to look right at him, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Sounds like a plan?” she asked, but didn’t give him any chance to reply, and he realized vaguely that he had barely even spoken two words in the past who-knows-how-long. “Good. I think the lads are getting here, so I sadly must leave this smelly vicinity, but Hazza?”

Caroline’s expression grew serious, and Harry saw in her eyes how much she cared for him.

“You’re going to do great, love. I just know it,” she said softly, and he wouldn’t admit to anyone that his eyes got a little watery and his heart beat a little faster.

It was just…this was it.

This was ‘THE BIG GAME’ and he had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time, and it was finally here, and well, this was his future, in a single game.

He nodded, lifting his hand into half a heart, which Caroline completed with her own smaller hand.

Harry tugged her close, pressing a kiss to her lips- just because they weren’t dating didn’t mean he couldn’t still do that- and then a kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks Cazza.”

~O~

It was all so familiar: the lights, the grass, the slight chill, the fans, the faces…

And for some reason, he couldn’t help but feel as if it were all passing in a daze.

They were tied half way through the first quarter.

1-1.

He was pissed about letting the goal in, and while he knew that the other team had gotten past the rest of his teammates before him, he still felt the responsibility of goalie weighing on his shoulders.

Sometimes, he wished he could be a forward.

~O~

Ten minutes before half time, and the other team had scored another point.

This time the blame was put nowhere, seeing as there was really nothing Harry could have done to stop the ball.

No, it was purely a lack of luck, and the skill of the other teams’ forward.

~O~

“We’re only one down,” Harry announced, pulling his team into a tight huddle. “We’re still in this, lads. We can _beat them_. We _will_ beat them.”

He didn’t know what to say because fear was gripping his heart and clutching at his veins and he was absolutely terrified that they’d lose.

His team needed a captain, though, so he told them what they _all_ needed to hear.

They were going to win this…there was no way they’d lose.

~O~

Ten minutes in, and they’re down.

They’re losing.

They’re fucking losing and all Harry can think about is how no, they can’t lose, they just…they cannot lose.

The score is 5-2.

They need three more goals just to catch up, to tie, and at least four to win.

~O~

Ten minutes before the end of the game and somehow, they’ve done it.

Whether it was Zayn and Louis up front, or him in the goal, or the defenders, or  midfielders, but they made three goals, and were currently fighting for a fourth.

Ten minutes left.

One more goal.

They’re so close now.

~O~

Five minutes left, and the ball has been in the opposing teams’ half.

Zayn and Louis are struggling to make a break, trying their hardest to make the winning goal.

Niall is running circles around the other team, keeping the ball in their possession.

~O~

Two minutes left, and the other team can tell Niall is tired.

Niall passes to Louis, who passes to Zayn, who shoots, and it arcs up, and up, and up, and it looks like it’s going to be a goal, but then…the goalie saves it and…no goal.

~O~

One minute left, and the other team has the ball and their star forward just received it and is cutting in and out of their defense.

Harry prepares for what’s to come.

***

The shot comes sooner than he’d anticipated.

He feels it hit the pads of his fingertips.

***

The whistle blows.

***

Harry can’t believe it.

***  
They lost.

~O~


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long!!! I should be wrapping this up pretty quickly, though...only one more chappie/epilogue thing! (: .xx

Harry sat in his room.

Just sat.

Or maybe sprawled.

He kind of switched between splayed out on his bed and curled in a ball on his desk chair, switching between positions whenever one got boring or uncomfortable.

It had been three days since the game, which was on Wednesday.

Now, it was Saturday and he had yet to show his face to anyone.

He skipped school, begging his mum to let him stay home.

She did, but only because she thought he was sick- he did look it, even, all pale and red-rimmed eyes and nose.

He didn’t tell her it was because he hadn’t really slept or ate or done anything since the game.

She never asked.

And while his mother didn’t seem to notice he was upset, his friends surely did, and he ignored their calls and texts, turning his phone off completely.

When Caroline tried coming over he told his mother not to let her in.

He just- he couldn’t show his face to anyone.

He let his team down when the last goal was made-

_The shot comes sooner than he’d anticipated._

_He feels it hit the pads of his fingertips._

_And then, there’s cheering._

_Loud cheering._

_The whistle blows._

_It takes a moment for his brain to register that the opposing team was the one cheering, and not his team._

_His team just looks defeated._

_Harry can’t believe it._

_This was everything- to both him and his team, but especially him- and it was all his fault._

_He didn’t stop the goal._

_He let the goal make it to the back of the  net._

_It hit his damn fingertips and he hadn’t managed to stop it, and now, now they…_

_They lost._

-and he still couldn’t get over it.

He knew he needed to be there for his team- he was captain after all- but he felt broken, absolutely torn in two.

This had been his goal for such a long time, the one thing he thought about, the only thing keeping him motivated.

Now all he could do was sit.

Stare.

Harry hadn’t worked out since the game.

He hadn’t even really left his room.

_“It isn’t your fault, Haz. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”_

_Knowing eyes gazed into his own, and he almost felt a spark of something, but then, he remembered what had just occurred and it was like the spark just disappeared._

_“I know,” he replied, but his shoulders were tense and his eyes were unseeing and he was already pulling away._

_It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he wanted to say._

_I was supposed to take Cazza’s advice, he thought._

_We were supposed to have victory sex and fall in love and have footie babies, and his brain was getting ahead of himself now because he wasn’t quite ready for kids, now or ever._

_But the falling in love part…maybe._

_Now, though…now, he couldn’t._

_Now, he didn’t deserve the pretty cheekbones and the styled hair that belonged to the star forward who he had denied himself so many times._

_“Seriously, Harry. This isn’t your fault. You were amazing. You_ are _amazing,” Zayn murmured, and he crowded into Harry’s space and Harry couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe because he wanted this so badly, but he didn’t deserve it._

_The scouts were looking for a Championship winner._

_They wanted a goalie that would have stopped that last goal._

_And Zayn…Zayn deserved the same._

_But Zayn was leaning closer and Harry still couldn’t breathe._

_“No.”_

_“No?”_

_“No- I just- not- championship winner- you deserve- not- victory sex- losing sex?- no- just. No,” Harry babbled, incoherent because Zayn was still very much pressed against him and he wanted it, now, he would admit, he’s wanted it for a while, but just…no._

_“No?”_

_Harry didn’t push Zayn away, and the smaller forward just stepped closer._

_Green locked with brown and Harry’s gaze was so piercing, and he saw everything he had seen the first day they met- the potential and the determination and he just couldn’t do it._

_“No.”_

_Harry stepped away, pulling his bag up on his shoulder and walking out of the locker room without looking back._

_He wasn’t sure what hurt worse- losing the game, or pushing Zayn away when he finally admitted he wanted the other lad._

So, maybe he was nursing a self-induced broken heart, too, and he couldn’t really bear facing Zayn at that moment.

Zayn wouldn’t understand and he didn’t know if he could push the pretty forward away another time.

At least that’s what he was telling himself…that he wasn’t good enough, that Zayn deserved better, that he couldn’t offer what Zayn wanted.

Of course, there was a nagging voice- sounding a lot like Louis’- that was saying he was being a twat for making that choice for Zayn.

He ignored it.

Harry knew it was for the best anyway.

No one wanted a high school football star…they wanted the professional football star.

He wasn’t one.

At this point, he wasn’t going to even be a college football star.

All of the scouts were at the game and he blew it, absolutely wrecked his chances.

Harry didn’t even have tears to cry as he drifted off to sleep, the clock blinking 2pm on his desk.

~O~

“Wake up you _tosser_!”

Harry grunted and brought his hands up to protect his face as it was repeatedly beat with the pillow that had been taken out from under his head.

“You-“ _whack_ “are” _whack_ “the” _whack_ “stupidest” _whack_ “most” the pillow was dropped, his beater deciding it was too much work, “idiotic person I have ever met- and let me tell you, I’ve met some pretty goddamn idiotic people.”

Harry jolted up as a slap was delivered to his cheek.

“What the fuck, Lou?” he glared, rubbing a hand to his cheek and wincing as it tingled and stung.

“Well, you turned your bloody phone off and skipped school, what did you expect? A big pity party hug?” Louis’ eyes were blazing, and Harry shrunk within himself, seeming smaller than the other lad even though he had several inches over Louis.

Louis turned and breathed deeply, seemingly trying to calm himself down a bit.

“I can’t even imagine how badly you’re hurting right now, Haz, not just physically, but we _need_ you. We need our Captain…” Louis was looking at him again and speaking with desperation.

Harry wanted to care, he really did, but he remained apathetic…he just…he had lost everything and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m only one person, Lou, I can’t do everything,” he replied, even and tight-lipped.

Louis sighed in exasperation.

“That’s my fucking _point_ , Harry! You. Cannot. Do. Everything,” Louis flailed his arms in Harry’s direction. “That goal wasn’t your fucking fault and you can’t blame yourself for it!”

Harry stood.

“You don’t get it, Lou! This was _everything_ to me.”

Louis flinched back at that.

“This wasn’t just everything for just you, ya know. If you managed to get your head out of your ass for one second maybe you’d see that it was everything for your team, as well.”

Louis was part way to the door when he spoke again.

His voice was softer this time, “We need you, Haz. I need you. The team needs their Captain. And…I know there’s at least one other person who needs you and I think you need him, too.”

~O~

Harry had tried to push Louis’ words out of his thoughts, but like everything else with Louis, they just kept annoying him and sticking to his mind.

After a restless night on Saturday, he decided that it was time to go to the one place that always made him feel better: the field.

He grabbed his cleats, running shoes, and a ball, and was out of the door within seconds, unlocking his car and making the drive he could probably do in his sleep.

It was time to find answers with his soccer ball.

~O~


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well I just ended up writing the epilogue, too, so I may as well just post it! Kick Start is officially complete and will be moved to the complete tag! Thank you all so, so much for reading! I really appreciate all of the feedback! Look out for Confessions, which should start sometime soon! (: .xx

_Go to the field asap,_ Louis commanded, and then, there was the dial tone.

Zayn huffed, was he serious?

That’s all, just ‘go to the field asap’ and then nothing else?

He hadn’t known what to expect when he saw Louis’ name flashing on his phone, but it definitely wasn’t, ‘go to the field asap’.

Why would he need to go to the field and what could be that important?

Zayn decided that he didn’t really want to deal with Louis’ wrath if he didn’t do as told, though, so he slipped on a jacket and some shoes, calling out to tell his mom that he’d be back in a bit.

He had no idea what to expect when he got there, and walked slowly, enjoying how the wind blew across his face.

His hair was flat on his head, and it made him look younger, more innocent.

He stopped at a gas station to grab a pack of cigarettes, and leaned against the wall, lighting one up.

No, he wasn’t procrastinated…he just…needed a smoke?

Okay, he was definitely procrastinating, not wanting to deal with Louis’ shit.

Eventually, though, the death stick was nothing but ashes and he had to keep walking.

He lit up another fag along the way, just for good measure.

By the time he was rounding the corner to the field his hands were itching for a third smoke and his feet were practically dragging.

He kind of expected some team get together or some shit, but when he looked out at the field he could safely say this was the last thing he would expect.

He certainly didn’t even know why Louis had sent him, surely this was categorized as his forte.

But sure enough- and Zayn blinked enough times to make sure he wasn’t just imagining it- there _he_ was.

Zayn halted in his tracks, still unseen.

He could leave without being noticed, easily.

But instead, he decided to watch, and he scooted a little closer to the edge of the track that surrounded the field.

Harry was just standing in the middle of the field, a ball by his feet, but not close enough for Harry to touch without taking a few steps.

And that was all he was doing- just standing.

He was facing the ball, though, so there was that.

From where Zayn was standing, it looked as if Harry’s eyes were closed, so he couldn’t be planning on doing anything with the ball.

But then, the curly-haired lads legs were propelling his lanky body forward, and Harry was kicking the ball, and wow.

Wow.

Harry had been standing about five feet from the mid-way mark on the field, and he booted the ball all the way into the back of the net, which was no easy feat.

Why the fuck was Harry a goalie when he could do _that_?

Zayn was shocked, to say the least, and even more impressed with the senior Captain.

Harry didn’t seem too impressed, though, and had gone back to standing like a bronze statue.

He let out a shout though, soon enough, and collapsed on the field, crying out.

Zayn wasn’t sure if he was in pain, or what, but he didn’t even realize he had started sprinting toward the older lad until Harry was practically right in front of him and he could hear his sobs.

It was instinct, pulling Harry into his arms, and for once, Harry didn’t push him away, instead, he sunk into Zayn’s embrace.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s going to all be okay,” Zayn soothed, tangling his fingers through Harry’s curls.

He pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead.

It was a complete shock when Harry looked up at the action, his eyes bloodshot and red, but still beautifully vibrant.

It was even more of a shock when he whispered, “You deserve so much better, but I can’t keep pushing you away.”

And it was most shocking when Zayn surged forward, catching Harry’s lips in a sweet kiss before whispering, “And I don’t want you to keep pushing me away.”

~O~

Zayn wasn’t sure what to even say when Harry told him that he thought Zayn deserved better.

In his mind, Harry was out of his reach, unattainable, and for Harry to think that he wasn’t good enough for Zayn was a bit mind-boggling.

~O~

 Harry was still kissing him though, so that was one thing.

A plus for sure.

Zayn wasn’t complaining.

~O~

Harry received a call from the MSL.

They wanted him to come to boot camp and tryouts for the professional team picks.

Harry accepted, of course.

~O~

Zayn wasn’t sure how to feel about Harry possibly becoming a professional soccer player.

Did that mean he’d be dating a pro?

~O~

Harry’s last year of high school hadn’t ended, though, so they had some time to figure it out.

As Harry put it, they had all the time in the world to figure it out because he wanted Zayn for as long as Zayn wanted him.

Zayn wanted Harry forever, as well.

So, he guessed they were pretty much forever.

~O~

Zayn was voted Captain for the team next year.

~O~

Zayn really didn’t want anything but Harry.

~O~

It was worth the begging, but seeing Harry in his letterman jacket fully made up for the countless blowjobs he had to administer in order to get Harry to wear it.

~O~

 And when they won the Championship game the next season, Harry was still wearing his letterman- and his professional team’s jersey underneath- cheering Zayn on and promising victory sex later- but only after Zayn showered, that was.

~O~

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This is also being updated on my tumblr: tunein-mymind.tumblr.com  
> Feedback is always appreciated (: .xx


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